


Master of My Fate (Captain of My Soul)

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Murder Kitten Bucky Barnes, Somewhat Nontraditional Soulmarks, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicidal Thoughts, Symbolism, Tony Stark-centric, Tony is a drama queen, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: Soulmarks aren't always a good thing. People say they stand for a grand destiny, but Tony is a fan of evidence over folklore. And evidence states that your 'grand destiny' could simply be your ending. Death or something worse.Tony thinks his soulmark just represents his death. It certainly doesn't mean that Bucky and Steve are his soulmates.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a soulmark on Tony’s back. It’s nestled between his shoulder blades, spanning the space between three vertebrae. Sometimes he thinks about the way it neatly severs his spine just below the neck.

Sometimes he thinks about what would happen if he just broke his back.

Crack.

Crack.

**Crack.**

Maybe broken bones would align the mark into something different. Something that wasn’t theirs ( _even though **this** wasn’t theirs. Not really. Not like he wanted it to be_ ).

_______

As a child, Tony was markless ( _or at least that’s what he heard. Jarvis got twitchy when he mentioned it and...Tony didn’t want to know_ ). He was completely blank. All smooth golden skin.

He grew up, though. Got freckles. Scars.

A **mark**.

Carved right into his skin in white hot bursts of pain, noises of betrayal ripped from his throat, tears of the same pouring from his eyes. Getting the mark **hurt**.

His father had told him to buck up. Maria had cried. Jarvis...

He hadn’t been there ( _hadn’t he? Some part of Tony, the one that had been so desperate to please Howard, laughed at him. The sound was childish_ ).

Tony didn’t look at his mark too often ( _ever, really_ ), but he’d memorized it on sight. When the mirror had been presented to him he had focused on the blood for awhile. But then...

There was a void where his skin had once been. Black as night ( _"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole-")_ and perfectly circular.

A soulmark that defied interpretation. Like the universe had taken a look at him and shrugged. Or had simply been unable to define him (" _I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul-"_ ).

Howard had crowed with pride ( _and Maria had cried. She’d cried for so long, great heaving sobs of terror_ ). Tony had simply stared in blank horror. Even back then, long before he’d understood its meaning, Tony’s soulmark had scared him.

Hadn’t suited him.

_______

When Tony got older, well...

He changed his mind.

The all consuming void DID suit him. The Merchant of Death’s trademark was obliteration. He left nothing behind ( _only ashes_ ).

He’d never broadcast his soulmark, though. He’d taken to petting it sometimes. Pulling at the skin. Pinching it.

Rhodey said he only touched it ( _a secret Rhodey had never seen_ ) when he felt guilty about something. Tony had smiled and, though it shamed him now, had told Rhodey the only thing he was guilty of was success.

Rhodey, marked in scarlet and gold chainmail ( _falling over his heart like a curtain, daring Tony to lift it, daring him to take a peek at something better than he could ever be_ ). Rhodey, steadfast and patient even when Tony didn’t deserve it.

He’d only placed a hand on Tony’s back, nestled between his shoulder blades, spanning the length of three vertebrae.

_______

Crack.

Crack.

**Crack.**

Sometimes Tony dreamed of Rhodey breaking his back in that moment. On his worst days, he wonders if it would’ve saved them all a hell of a lot of trouble. He wonders if it would’ve been merciful.

But Rhodey had only ever touched his mark with the gentlest of hands.

( _“Just returning the favour, Tones.” He'd said, Tony's cheek resting lightly on his chest_ )

_______

Pepper asked Tony if she could see it, once. A quick seal bandage kept it covered from prying eyes ( _even those of his partners_ ). She couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to - only Tony knew how.

He told her no.

He wasn’t surprised when she left him. Everyone did.

_______

It wasn’t unusual to be markless. Folklore said that only the truly exceptional were marked. Reality...differed a bit.

Not as much as you’d think.

Everyone who was marked was marked for a reason. Soulmates were one of them - destined couples bore each other’s symbols. But the marks were more than that.

They were destiny. The kind that poisoned all of Tony’s worst ( _best_ ) dreams.

Helen of Troy was marked with ships with red sails wrapped tight around her ankles. She thought that they meant her fate would come to her over the seas. That she would walk on water - be a thing of miracles. She’d believed it was something great, as destiny often is.

Her destiny killed countless people. The only version of her story that he believed was the one in which she died. Many marked people tended to. Sometimes that ( ** _death_** ) was the only great thing people were meant for.

Juliet was marked with bleeding heart flowers trailing down her lips and throat. She didn’t match up with Romeo, but people thought it was romantic anyway. They said it represented her great love.

Romeo hadn’t been marked with anything. The worst kind of scholar would say that Shakespeare meant for that to indicate Juliet’s love was enough for the both of them.

Tony thought it was just because Romeo’s death didn’t kickstart a damn thing.

_______

“Sir...”

JARVIS trails off, uncertainty revealing itself as a crackle ( _a millisecond blip_ ) in his cultured English voice,

“You do not have a soulmark. You aren’t registered in any database.”

Tony waits to see if JARVIS will continue. It’s a habit he’s long since gotten into - leaving pauses in conversation to see how JARVIS will react to them ( _it’s how he trained his personality, once. Rhodey joked that Tony must’ve talked JARVIS’ ear off all the time. In reality, Tony gave him silences to fill_ ).

The silence stretches on. The edge of Tony’s mouth quirks up ( _he’s always proud when JARVIS out-waits him, even when it’s annoying. It shows he has learned_ ).

“You’re right.”

Tony replies before returning to his project. He wants to create a removable skin graft, but it has presented him with one too many technical challenges ( _biology was needlessly complicated. He wished he were an amoeba_ ).

“Sir.”

JARVIS’ tone went disapproving, though fond amusement and concern came close behind it. Tony brushed his fingers through the air between himself and the closest camera ( _a mimicry of a caress_ ).

“The black mark on your back-“

JARVIS started, then stopped. A rush of pride ran through Tony yet again ( _he loved when JARVIS did something so human - rushed to process something, came to an answer, then second guessed it_ ).

“I’m right.”

JARVIS repeated, testing the words.

“You’re right.”

Tony confirmed.

That night, he found a pile of research papers in his servers. They ranged from methods of fading skin pigmentation with lasers to which adhesives best mimicked skin.

Tony brushed his fingers through the air ( _he loved JARVIS_ ).

_______

Yinsen had touched Tony’s mark like it was something precious. As if it were something **real**.

“Your destiny doesn’t stop here, Tony.”

Yinsen told him. Tony had scoffed, back in the early days, and responded,

“It could. I’ve already made a black mark on history.”

Yinsen had looked at him so strangely, then. He hadn’t understood.

“This mark means great things.”

He had tried to convince Tony. It had burned. Hearing that had BURNED, just like his back all those years ago.

“Do you remember getting your soulmark, Yinsen?”

Tony had asked him instead of trying to explain to him his own thoughts on ‘great things’. Yinsen had blinked behind his scratched and filthy glasses.

“No.”

He had said, slow and careful ( _trying to understand)_ ,

“It came to me in my sleep. Like a dream.”

Tony...

He laughed.

“Don’t they all?”

He said,

“Don’t they all...”

_______

After Afghanistan, Rhodey saw the mark. His face had been full of questions ( _of admiration, hope, excitement_ ), each and every one of which died a swift death when Tony flinched away from him.

Rhodey pressed a gentle hand to his back, tucked right between his shoulders, curling his fingers over Tony’s spine.

Tony’s back didn’t break, but his heart sure did.

( _He pressed his face to red and gold chainmail and listened to Rhodey’s heart beat steady and true_ )

 _(“I wanted to say it’s not a bad thing.” Rhodey whispered, brushing his fingers down Tony’s back_ )

( _“But I’m wrong, aren’t I?”_ )

( _Tony didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Rhodey had always been smart_ )

_______

Nobody else sees Tony’s soulmark. Pepper asks. Tony refuses.

There is no one after her. There is only Iron Man.

_______

A cold cream is pressed into the electrical burns running down Tony’s entire torso and neck. He can’t reach his back, but Rhodey has him covered.

“Is it...”

Tony doesn’t know how to finish the sentence ( _is it gone? Is it ok? Is it damaged?_ ). Rhodey’s hands, numb and strange with the cream, press lightly between his shoulder blades.

“Nothing touched it.”

Rhodey reassured him. Tony’s gut twisted, turning over itself with a mixture of relief and dread.

Nothing ever touched his soulmark. Nothing but himself and Rhodey.

( _He wished something else would, though_ )

( _A touch less gentle_ )

( _Something that would burn and burn and **burn** until the mark was the least of his worries_ )

_______

When he’s flying Iron Man, Tony is free. In the armour, it’s natural to be covered up. It’s normal to have his back pressed against a metaphorical ( _and physical_ ) wall.

The plates on his back are the sleekest, linking together seamlessly despite the need for complex articulation ( _they are the thickest, too. Nothing will ever break through_ ). They are smooth. Unmarked.

He can’t give up the suit. In a way, it’s the closest he’s ever been to being himself.

_______

Being Iron Man, despite its difficulties, makes Tony HAPPY. It feels like his ‘something great’. It feels like something worthy of being marked, if only because he has died countless times.

It only gets better with Rhodey by his side.

( _The chainmail on his chest was an exact match for the armour's paint job_ )

_______

Being Iron Man makes Tony happy. It gives him purpose.

It gives him Steve Rogers.

That’s almost enough for him to think being Iron Man was never worth it. It’s almost enough that he wishes...

He wishes the mark was for a great death. This life isn’t worth living.

_______

Steve hates him. It figures.

Tony can’t tear his eyes away from the void engraved onto Steve Rogers' chest, right over his heart. A perfectly round hole.

If Steve was a different man, it would look like he was heartless. But Tony knew who that mark matched, so it only looked like Steve’s heart had been ripped out.

Bucky Barnes had been dead for nearly a century.

So yeah, Steve hates Tony for staring. Tony thinks he’s lucky that that’s all Steve hates him for.

_______

“I’ve always wondered what it meant.”

Steve says, startling Tony out of his thoughts ( _and the inevitable wandering of his eyes to Steve’s well-muscled chest_ ).

“What?”

Tony asks, already beginning to shrink back ( _edging away, hoping to escape. He hadn’t meant to approach Steve. He’d just looked so alone, sitting in a window alcove and staring down at the forever changed streets of the city beneath him_ ). Steve doesn’t look at him, however Tony feels the weight of his regard ( _his misery_ ) anyway.

“I always wondered what **our** mark,”

Steve says and Tony’s heart momentarily stops,

“Meant. Buck always said it was empty - something we had to fill. Said I had enough soul to fill it all on my own.”

Steve laughs, the sound choked with tears,

“My own little pocket of the universe.”

There’s an itch between Tony’s shoulder blades. He’s terrified of indulging it. Steve still isn’t looking, but Tony feels like if he does he’ll see everything ( _through the two layers of shirts and adhesive skin_ ).

Steve buried his face in his hands.

“You see it too, don’t you?”

He asked,

“It is **emptiness**. But I’m never going to fill it again. All I have left of him is the cold - it’s the only thing that never goes away.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to tell Steve that he’s never thought that without it being a lie. He doesn’t know how to say that Steve is DIFFERENT.

Steve has always been different ( _the exception to all of Howard’s rules_ ).

He winds up saying nothing. Instead, he sits underneath the window alcove, back pressed securely to the wall. Tony listens to Steve try his best to cry silently and gently runs his fingers through the slowly warming air.

( _He loves JARVIS_ )

( _He hopes he never loves Steve_ )

_______

“Captain Rogers has arrived on your floor, Sir.”

JARVIS notified Tony as he was in the middle of prying off his suit jacket. Tony’s hands froze - the jacket was stiff and hot after a too-long night, but his shirt underneath was white.

He was wearing false skin that had never failed before, though he had never been sure how good a super soldier’s eyes were.

With shaking fingers, Tony buttons himself back into the jacket. Better safe than sorry ( _better hated for butting his head where it doesn’t belong than for-_ ).

“Rogers.”

He called out, pasting a pleasant smile on his face,

“What brings you to my humble abode? Accommodations not good enough down below, so you’ve come to steal my space?”

It’s light, teasing, but Tony actually hates anybody being in the penthouse. It makes him feel like there’s nowhere he can be alone ( _ **safe**_ ). Clearly, Steve picks up on that ( _hunching in on himself apologetically_ ).

Tony doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t know how to without giving Steve free reign to be up here. He doesn’t know how to explain why he doesn’t want that.

“I just wanted...”

Steve trails off, steels himself,

“Can I draw up here? The rest of the team...they’re...”

Tony inclined his head. He watches silently as Steve struggles to find the words.

“Boisterous. They want to talk.”

Steve finally settles on. Tony’s puzzled, however he won’t deny the man his art. He’s leaving anyway.

“Go on.”

He tells Steve,

“You can be king of this castle. My princess is in another one.”

He moves towards the elevator. He’s jerked to a startled stop by Steve’s hand closing around his bicep.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t talk-“

Steve was saying, a flush high on his cheeks,

“And you certainly don’t have to leave - it’s your apartment. I just-“

Tony clasped Steve’s hand. It was a casual gesture, especially after being grabbed, but Steve stared at Tony’s hand like he wasn’t sure it really existed. It was a bit unnerving.

“I was leaving anyway, big guy-“

Tony began to explain, however the crestfallen expression on Steve’s face wouldn’t let him continue. He was still weirdly focused on Tony’s hand _(his own flexing underneath it, digging uncomfortably into Tony’s bicep_ ).

“Hey,”

Tony called out to him,

“Are you ok?”

Tony slipped his hand away from Steve’s to cup his face instead. He was surprised to find himself supporting over two hundred pounds of muscle a second later as Steve sagged in his grip, pushing his face into Tony’s neck.

“Uh...”

Tony mumbled,

“This is ok. I guess. Uh...feeling a little bit touch-starved there, buddy?”

Steve didn’t respond. He just kept the maximum amount of skin contact between them possible ( _his chest coming uncomfortably close to Tony’s own. He didn’t want that mark over his own heart - over the reactor. Not now, not ever_ ).

Awkwardly, Tony shuffled them both over to the couch and sat down heavily ( _Steve nearly knocking the wind out of him going down. The man was practically made from a stone_ ). While he was struggling to silently cancel his meeting through JARVIS, Steve fell asleep.

Weird.

_______

  
Steve Rogers hated him. He hated Tony, but Tony was the one he had revealed his misery to, so he kept coming back when he needed comfort.

At least, that’s what Tony told himself the first time Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

_______

“You did good today, Shellhead.”

Steve’s warm voice washes over Tony, leaving him stunned for a second.

“You too, Winghead.”

He finally musters after an awkward pause. He flies off immediately after, despite the fact that he knows it’s futile. Steve will come find him the moment he touches down at the tower. He’ll touch him to make sure Tony is alright - that STEVE is alright.

Then he’ll probably take a nap on Tony’s couch again, a hand pressed tight to the soulmark on his chest.

And Tony will run away like he always does.

( _Not far, though_ )

( _Never far enough_ )

_______

So maybe Steve Rogers likes Tony. It doesn’t mean anything. The man said it himself - he was empty.

Maybe everyone with the mark of the void would spend their lives trying to fill it. Maybe that’s all Tony was.  
  
Filler.

_______

On his better days, on the foolish ones where Rhodey flew with him and kissed his cheeks, Tony thought about how the light of the arc reactor offset any darkness.

He thought about how well it would fit into the hole in his back.

The hole in Steve’s chest.

On his better days, Tony wonders what it’s like to let himself dream of something wonderful.

_______

“Is Rhodes yours?”

Steve asks, right around the point that he’s finally started opening up around everyone else. They’re at a private party - Avengers only. Rhodey’s chainmail is on full display and he’s proudly ( _drunkenly_ ) proclaiming himself Tony’s knight in shining armour.

“No.”

Tony says, blowing Rhodey a kiss ( _watching him catch it, put it in his pocket_ ),

“I don’t have a soulmark.”

_______

Steve shows up in Tony’s rooms that night. He goes to sleep on the couch, completely missing Rhodey conked out in Tony’s bed. They miss each other in the morning, too.

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so relieved.

_______

There’s always an arm around Tony’s shoulders nowadays. A chin balanced on his head. A hand tucked into his back pocket.

Steve is always touching.

Even though he has others to cuddle away the touch-starvation with.

_______

Shyly, Tony begins to touch back. He’s too stupid to do anything else. Too hopeful. A dumb dog on the sidewalk that follows people home for scraps.

He traces patterns on the underside of Steve’s wrist, idly kissing the back of his hand ( _listening carefully to the way that Steve’s breath catches, stutters, sighs right out of him in pleasure_ ). He plays with strands of golden blond hair when Steve lectures him, tweaks Steve’s ears, tickles his sides.

Under the attention, Steve seems to...glow. His happiness is frightening.

No one else is afraid, so Tony hides it. He smiles, he laughs, and he keeps touching even when he wants to scream.

_______

“Sir.”

JARVIS calls out to him at 3am. Tony has been laying in bed, gazing sightlessly at the dark expanse of his ceiling.

“What is it, JARVIS?”

Tony asks. His fingers trace a circle in the shadows ( _his back itches. He hasn’t touched it in days - he keeps his hands in his pockets or on Steve’s skin_ ).

“Your mark...”

JARVIS trails off,

“I do not understand why it matches Captain Rogers’.”

JARVIS is toeing the line between tentative and frustrated curiosity. Ever since he was born, JARVIS had always hated mysteries ( _that he couldn’t solve_ ).

“It was always meant to.”

Tony responds. He shifts, places his fist against his back, popping his spine. Each crack sounds unnaturally loud in the quiet of his room.

“It was destined.”

JARVIS concludes ( _something stubborn in his tone. Something hopeful. It reminds Tony of Rhodey’s “I wanted to say it wasn't a bad thing.”_ ).

“You could say that.”

Tony tells him.

He lays awake for hours afterwards, fist crushed against his back until it’s numb ( _until it feels like a stranger’s hand_ ).

_______

Charcoal scratches against paper as Steve’s hand skims along Tony’s spine ( _he’s laying on the floor, breathing as easy as he can with the reactor pressed to the carpet_ ). As his fingers pass through the valley between Tony’s shoulders, Tony manfully resists a shudder. He holds perfectly ( _unnaturally_ ) still.

Steve’s hand returns, his palm pressing firmly down Tony’s spine ( _the warmth of it nothing in comparison to the heat in Steve’s eyes_ ). The heel of it grinds into every dip in Tony’s neck, slow and questioning - a conversation in motion. Tony rolls over before it can touch the darkest place on his body.

He makes his excuses and leaves. Steve finishes drawing him anyway - Tony can see part of the paper from JARVIS’ cameras.

He can see the smear of shadow Steve has placed high on his back.

_______

“He loves you.”

Natasha says. Tony freezes, hand resting lightly on the toaster _(he’d changed out some wiring, put in a program so it could toast messages into bread - it was for a prank, though he couldn’t remember who exactly he was pranking_ ).

“He has a hole in his heart.”

Tony responds,

“And he’s looking to fill it.”

Doubt flickers through Natasha’s eyes - nearly invisible ( _this was the most she could stand for him to see. As honest as she could be, a bright red hand printed wide and heavy across her throat_ ). Tony thinks she understands what he means.

Maybe she understands **everything** he means ( _he’d seen Yelana before the Avengers had lost her again. A Black Widow with a bloody handprint on her face. Somebody who could never hide forever but was determined to anyway - hopeless. Natasha said their prints didn’t match. She was right...Yelana’s mark came from slightly smaller hands, ones that Natasha Romanov kept perfectly maintained_ ).

_______

The Winter Soldier loses his mask and Steve loses his blinders ( _or whatever idiocy convinced him that anybody but James Barnes could be his for life_ ). He can see more than just Tony now.

In fact, it’s like Tony isn’t even there.

Natasha can’t look Tony in the eye anymore. Her hands clench, but sometimes Tony sees them caress her throat regretfully.

He’s sorry to be another lesson to her.

He’s sorry that sometimes a mark is just for great death, not a great life.

_______

Fighting Barnes is paralyzing. Tony has never been more scared in his life, because Steve isn’t at his back this time. Nobody is - each time Steve falters, they have to pick him up.

Only Tony ignores him.

Only Tony can’t give this - Barnes - up.

Only Tony is willing to kill him if he has to ( _there’s a void on his back, an opening that shows how death pours in and fills his chest to the brim. Sometimes he thinks the reactor, bright and blue and beautiful, is the only thing keeping that blackness at bay_ ).

Tony alone can’t stop the Winter Soldier, though. He’s confused, but his training holds strong - he’s vicious and efficient and STRONG.

There’s a darkness rolling and heaving like the sea in his gaze. It’s replacing the black mark that used to cover his left palm ( _the size and shape of one of Tony’s repulsers._ ).

Tony lets Barnes close in on him, charging up and getting ready to cleave through metal, to disable even if it allows Barnes to kick his ass-

But he was mistaken in thinking no one was at his back. Natasha lunged, pulling away the Soldier’s attention in a desperate move that made Tony want to scream ( _Natasha had never been taught to do that. Natasha had never been taught how to look at him with pity, with the need to protect. Obedience to that teaching was supposed to keep her SAFE_ ).

Blood blossomed on her chest. Tony did scream, then. His thoughts raced at the same rate as his heart.

( _A red hand marked all along Natasha’s throat in a stranglehold_ )

 _(It restrained her. Held her back. Her destiny was to die by it or to disobey on her way to a great destiny_ )

( _To say words that she had never been allowed. To never work in another’s service again_ )

( _She was still in service - still with SHIELD. It wasn’t her time. The bullet had passed through her chest and not her throat. It wasn’t her time_ )

( ** _It wasn’t time_** )

The repulser in Tony’s palm whined. He could hear Steve screaming at him distantly. He could see Natasha’s lips moving, a sardonic smile on her face ( _a great death. “I don’t even deserve that.” A laugh. “I was supposed to die like a dog.” No. **No-**_ ). He can feel Barnes’ footfalls shake the ground as he made his way over to Tony’s suit.

The world went red. For a second, Tony thought it was with anger - his ears were ringing loudly with it. But then the red condensed into alerts; JARVIS trying every available avenue to get his attention.

**[PALM PRESSURE CRITICAL]**

**[ENERGY DISSIPATION MEASURES IN FULL EFFECT]**

**[ENERGY REDISTRIBUTION: FAILED]**

**[TARGET: ???]**

Barnes was right there. He could carve a hole in his palm, give him the shock of a lifetime, make him remember SOMETHING. Steve had shaken Barnes. Tony knew that.

He could also fire right into Barnes’ chest. He wasn’t protecting himself - he was a man on a mission ( _a gun, aimed and cocked_ ).

**[PALM INTEGRITY: 90% AND FALLING]**

**[TARGET: ???]**

Steve rushed out, standing with his back to Barnes, facing Tony with a desperate expression on his face and a shield in hand. Barnes still had a gun. It was pressed to Steve’s back ( _right between the shoulder blades_ ).

He could fire into the ground, but at this range it would injure Nat ( _shrapnel slitting her red throat_ ) and Barnes. He could fire straight up and risk civilian casualties. The armour lining his arms wasn’t capable of absorbing much more kinetic energy. The armour on his chest and head was too thin.

**[PALM INTEGRITY: 80%]**

**[WARNING]**

Barnes moved, completely ignoring Steve. He strides forward, expressionless, gun raised to fire despite knowing it will do no damage to the Iron Man armour.

JARVIS has targeted Barnes’ hand, which had gotten too close to Tony’s face for comfort between one second and the next ( _he felt his legs move a step back without his conscious effort - JARVIS jerking him harshly out of range_ ).

Tony lifted his own hand. He could see the crosshairs JARVIS set up blinking at him. Red on red on red on ( _a red hand pressed against Natasha’s throat. A collar. A leash. It wasn’t time. A red star on Barnes’ arm. A red stain on Steve’s side, the red of his eyes when he had spent days crying over living in a new century_ )-

He pressed it tight to his own back, tucked dangerously between the thick sliding plates of his shoulder blades, resting just over three knobs of his spine. Barnes froze, confusion sliding over his frozen features, horror melting into his eyes.

“N-“

Barnes croaked, metal hand extended _(fingers still curled around his handgun_ ).

**[TARGET: LOCKED]**

**[BACK PLATES: LOCKED]**

**[COMMAND: FIRE]**

_______

“I was in the surgery theatre when they treated the fractures in your shoulders. Had to make sure no one took photos.”

Natasha’s voice was thin. Barely a wisp of silk on the wind. It seemed to spool out of her lungs and into the distance without disappearing.

Tony kept his eyes closed, preferring that mental image over the reality he was sure to be faced with.

“You have whiplash and a concussion. None of the skin on your back was burned.”

She tells him. He hears an echo of Rhodey’s voice from years ago ( _none of his back was burned. It never was_ ).

“I kept them out, Tony.”

She intertwined their fingers, pressed Tony’s hand to her throat. He spread his fingers accommodatingly - he’d long since memorized her mark.

“This wasn’t your great death.”

She says. He opens his eyes, meeting hers head-on.

“It never is.”

He confesses, fingers stroking her mark. There’s something bitter in the way she swallows and nods, saying,

“It never is. Not when you expect it.”

She doesn’t say what they’re both thinking. Not quite. Not really.

( _It never is_ )

( _Not when you want it to be_ )

( _Not when YOU get to choose_ )

_______

The next time Tony wakes up, it’s to blaring alarms. He knows without asking that Barnes has escaped whatever captivity they had managed to get him into.

He knows because Barnes’ metal palm is pressed against his spine.

“You’re dangerous.”

Barnes says, sounding a bit rapturous in the creepiest of ways. His voice is rusty, reminding Tony of the old scrapyard him and Rhodey used to hit, way back when Howard cut him off in his second year. His people skills are apparently rusty, too.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

Tony rasps out, attempting to roll over. Barnes' hand pressed him flat to the hospital bed. The reactor crushes his lungs.

“A hole here,”

Barnes fingers tighten, pinching Tony’s skin unpleasantly, making every panic receptor in his brain light up nice and bright,

“Would have killed you. You fired, though.”

Tony growls, bending an arm behind his back to scrabble at Barnes’ unyielding fingers.

“You’re dangerous.”

Barnes repeats. His tone is exactly like JARVIS’ when he thinks he’s figured something out. Steely confidence and a certain kind of satisfaction.  
  
...

Speaking of JARVIS, he was suspiciously silent. Tony brushed his fingers through the air once before Barnes snatched them, pressing them to his back.

Tony heard the quiet snick of guns cocking from the ceiling. Barnes inhaled sharply, but his tone was pleased when he murmured,

“Dangerous.”

It took hours after he disappeared for Tony to finally fall back asleep.

_______

The tower was empty of everyone but Natasha when Tony woke up. They’d gone after Barnes, of course.

“Tell me about Yelana.”

Tony demanded, collapsing onto the sofa next to her ( _gazing at their reflections in the black TV screen_ ).

“I was supposed to kill her.”

Natasha whispered,

“My hands wrapped around her throat. She pushed on my face...”

_______

The others checked in regularly. Steve stayed gone, though. Tony tried not to let it sting - was even a little successful when Rhodey came back ( _heart beating too fast under his chainmail, worry coursing through him despite seeing Tony alive_ ).

He managed to do alright for a few months. Managed to make it through dreams of his back burning, blood dripping, Yinsen’s confused face ( _“It came to me in my sleep, like a dream”_ ). He made sure to eat and drink and avoid disturbing either of his shoulders ( _Rhodey laying adhesive for him every day, hands careful and painfully gentle_ ).

And then Barnes ghosted into his room. Pinned Rhodey to the bed with one hand, caressed Tony’s back with the other. Used neither to do a damn thing about the knife Tony had to his throat.

Barnes looked **pleased.**

“You won’t let me kill him.”

Barnes observed, palm moving in a circle that had bile rising in Tony’s throat,

“You’re dangerous. I can stay if you're here.”

“No offense.”

Tony responded, pushing the knife in deep enough to draw blood,

“But I’m not inclined to let you stay while you’re touching me like you’re a Catholic priest and I’m an innocent altar boy. Try making a better second impression, Barnes.”

Rhodey reached over, yanking Tony out of Barnes’ grip despite being pinned by the chest. He snarled, putting his own hand over Tony’s spine in a move that was probably too revealing ( _Tony couldn’t help but think that Barnes’ fascination said too much had been revealed already_ ).

Barnes smirked, then seemingly melted into the darkness.

By the time Tony got out of bed, scrambled into one of Rhodey’s old hoodies, and tore downstairs, Barnes was already locked in the Hulk room. He looked smug. Tony sighed and pressed his forehead to the glass as Barnes watched.

“JARVIS...”

Tony said,

“Call Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...any theories about Tony's soulmark yet? I'm curious to see what people think it is.
> 
> The title of this fic and some of what Tony thinks about his own mark are from Invictus, a poem by W.E. Henley.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Steve again seemed to flip a switch in Barnes. He didn’t relax...at least, not exactly. Tony didn’t know how to explain it.

“It’s like looking a different man. Still paranoid as hell, but definitely a different guy.”

Rhodey said, hand hovering just over Tony’s back ( _exactly where it had been for the past two incredibly tense hours_ ). He was right, of course. He always was.

Barnes looked like a different man. Tony supposed this was Steve Rogers’ Bucky. The man his very soul was tied to.

Their hands were pressed to the glass, palms overlain, and Tony couldn’t stand looking at them ( _not when Steve pressed his lips to the glass, soft and reverent_ ). Barnes’ eyes pierced him from just over Steve’s shoulder, though, demanding he stayed.

Demanding Tony keep Steve safe from him.

“Buck...?”

Steve’s voice wobbled dangerously. He was beginning to turn ( _the movement reluctant as if Barnes were going to disappear_ ).

“Is something wrong?”

Steve asked. Barnes’ gaze refused to budge an inch, leaving Tony struggling like a pinned butterfly ( _lava hot anger rising up in his throat_ ).

Smooth as butter, Rhodey circled Tony and blocked Barnes’ view. His jaw was tight with fury, ticking tighter by the second, causing his teeth to creak.

“Hey Tony,”

Rhodey said, louder than was purely necessary,

“You wanna fly with me? Just the two of us. We can do a death drop.”

The death drops bothered the hell out of Steve. Made Natasha twitchy, too, though Clint and Bruce loved watching them. Sam wouldn’t go anywhere near them if they were practicing falling period.

They were a maneuver where Tony flew as high as he could, Rhodey clinging to his hands in the suit, before they both let themselves plummet headfirst to earth.

It taught them to be unafraid in free fall. They’d stare each other’s suits in the face, breaking contact only at the last second to pull away from the ground.

Usually, Tony would press his gauntlets to Rhodey’s arc reactor, trusting him to pull Tony away from certain doom _(something he longed for too strongly sometimes to be trusted with the drop_ ).

“You gonna hold my heart in your hands, Honeybear?”

Tony asks. He’s aiming for joking, but there’s a tremor in his voice he can’t quite get rid of ( _he can feels Barnes’ gaze even through Rhodey’s broad back_ ). It makes his flirting sound awkwardly sincere ( _made it sound like he couldn’t be trusted with the drop_ ).

There’s a mischievous tilt to Rhodey’s chin that only spells out bad news to Tony. He trusts Rhodey with his life, bad news or not, so he prepares himself to roll with whatever Rhodey is about to dole out.

“Actually...”

Rhodey is smirking and it shows in his voice ( _warm sincerity layered with a certain smugness_ ),

“I was thinking you could hold onto mine. Since it’s yours and everything, flyboy.”

With that he turns to face Steve and Bucky, Tony tucked flush against his chest ( _cheek resting on his chainmail_ ). Tony lets himself melt ( _conveniently concealing his face_ ) as Rhodey strokes his back in an extremely deliberate way.

A growl rips free of Barnes’ throat that has Tony startling, but Rhodey’s grip is like iron. He couldn’t escape even if he wanted to.

“We’re gonna take off, Cap.”

Rhodey announces. Tony can practically feel Steve’s frown of disapproval as he says,

“Death drops? Colonel Rhodes, with all due respect, Tony was injured quite recently-“

“No.”

Barnes’ refusal cuts off Steve’s much longer winded one. Rhodey strokes Tony’s back again ( _still refusing to let him turn around_ ).

“I’m aware of Tony’s injuries, which is why he’ll be the one monitoring my fall instead of the other way around.”

Rhodey says primly,

“I have to pull him up from a death drop, but he can simply flip us both with his more flexible suit. It’s entirely core work - his back will be fine, won’t it, Tones?”

Tony recognized the question for what it was ( _a chance to ham this up or shut it down_ ). He wound an arm around Rhodey’s waist, twisting in his grip while keeping his focus lovingly on Rhodey’s magnificent visage.

“Puddin’ will keep me safe. He’s been watching my back for the past month anyway. And washing it. I think he’s seen more of me than I have.”

He teased, pretending to try and stare at his own back as Rhodey snickered. Steve cleared his throat - he’d obviously picked up on the jab at his conspicuous absence.

“Right.”

Steve said. He sounded uncomfortable.

“Right,”

He repeated,

“If you trust Colonel Rhodes, I’m sure it will be fine.”

That admission sounded like pulling teeth. Still, the fact that Steve wasn’t going to follow and make sure he was alright...

Tony inhaled slowly, trying his best to relax and let it go. He wasn’t in love with Steve. He never had been. He’d always been filler - he knew that.

“Right.”

He said cheerily, pulling out of Rhodey’s embrace,

“Suit up, darling-“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Barnes interrupted in that same steely certain robot voice he’d used when he broke into Tony’s hospital room and invaded his privacy.

“Buck-“

“He’s not leaving.”

Barnes repeated. Tony rolled his eyes, tugging Rhodey forward by the hand. He wasn’t going to spend his whole life watching Barnes and Steve flirt just because a cyborg assassin told him to ( _Barnes either knew about the mark or knew how Tony felt about Steve - he had to_ ).

 **SLAM.**  
  
**SLAM, SLAM-**

Tony froze in place. He didn’t turn around, but he was absolutely certain Barnes was hitting the glass - probably with his metal hand by the volume of the impact.

He could just barely hear Steve trying to calm him down past the rush of blood in his ears ( _Natasha sprawled out on the ground, a red stain on her chest-_ ).

“Mr Barnes.”

Tony murmured, quiet but authoritative. It was his boardroom voice. He waited for a moment, but no more slamming was to be heard.

“I will tell you this once and only once, so **listen up**.”

Tony continued,

“I don’t belong to you or Steve, Mr Barnes.”

He glanced over his shoulder and met that piercing ( _possessive, dangerous, demanding_ ) gaze. He let himself remember, just for a second, what getting his soulmark felt like. It cooled his tone to subzero temperatures,

“I **never** will.”

_______

“I wanted to say it was a good thing.”

Rhodey spoke over the coms, spiraling in a tight corkscrew around Tony as they gained altitude,

“All those years ago, I thought you carrying the marks of American heroes meant you were meant for great things. That maybe it meant you would be able to see yourself as a hero or that it meant your heart was just as big as theirs.”

Tony edged out a single foot, the speed of his ascent pulling his body into a pirouette. He hummed to show he was listening ( _flight usually distracted him when it was for fun. Hijacked his brain until it ran smooth single processes_ ).

“You were scared, though. Kept it tucked away. And I know you, Tones.”

The Earth fell away beneath them as they broke cloud cover.

“I know how you turn your fears into weapons. Turn your vulnerabilities into masks. Everything the world asks you to hide, you toss out into the light - here’s my dirty laundry. Look at it.”

It was going to rain. Tony hadn’t seen Thor in a long time, but storms still made Tony think of him. He hoped Thor came back sometime soon - he could use a buffer.

“I know you place a lot of stock in soulmarks, Tony. So I know what yours is. I know it isn’t yours - not something you wanted. Not something you chose.”

Rhodey’s fingers interlocked with his. At the peak of their flight path, Tony always let his chest expand until the lobes of his lungs pushed against the arc reactor. He took the kind of breath he never would on land.

“I think...”

Rhodey moves their hands to cradle Tony’s arc reactor, letting Tony’s weight tilt him backwards, beginning to fall.

“I think my mark is for you. I think it’s yours - not soulmates, but something. Like your mark just wound up on me instead of you.”

The wind outside whistled, though it seemed like a whisper in the privacy of their shared comms.

“Your mark is yours, Rhodey.”

Tony said, watching the altitude meter begin to countdown.

“I don’t see why it can’t be yours, too.”

Rhodey said, stubborn as ever ( _flexible, but unyielding. A thousand little metal links_ ). Rhodey’s voice fell into the intimate tone Tony had only heard a few times in his life,

“You and me, Tones? We’re in this together. All of it - life, death, the works. So my mark is yours.”

The earth was rushing up to greet them. Tony felt a wetness on his cheeks that he was too embarrassed to acknowledge. He shook his head exaggeratedly enough that Rhodey could see it through the armour.

“My mark is yours. The thing on your back? It only means as much as you want it to, Tony.”

Rhodey insisted. The bottom of the drop was seconds away, Rhodey trusting Tony to pull him out of it. To pull himself out it ( _out of this darkness that had been creeping into him ever since the day they found Steve_ ).

If Tony let himself fall, Rhodey would as well.

“I want it to mean everything.”

Tony choked out,

“But it’s just a stain on my skin.”

He twisted, his core straining, pulling Rhodey into a long curve with him that ruffled the grass and startled birds into flight. They both landed, standing with Rhodey’s gauntleted fingers cupped around Tony’s heart.

“So what’re you going to do?”

Rhodey asked.

“Nothing.”

Tony told him,

“I’m not going to do a damn thing.”

_______

By the time Rhodey had to go back to the military, he hadn’t left Tony’s side once. They’d stayed up in the penthouse or defied death - there was no inbetween. Only Natasha saw them, waiting up on the roof to watch them circle in the sky like birds.

When Tony dropped Rhodey at the airport, Nat was waiting for him in the car. He took one look at her, the pity in her eyes and her scarlet throat, and took off.

He flew over the city for hours before a worried call from Steve pulled him back. Steve was already on the landing strip when he got back ( _was on Tony the second that the armour disassembled_ ).

“You look like hell.”

Steve murmured, brushing the hair off of Tony’s forehead as Tony restrained a flinch ( _Steve hadn’t touched him in...he didn’t know how long_ ).

“I thought you said Rhodes wasn’t yours, Tony.”

Steve said abruptly, like he’d been chewing on the words for weeks and couldn’t resist spitting them out. His hand was still in Tony’s hair when Tony’s back stiffened.

“He’s not.”

Tony responded, clipped and cold,

“I don’t have a soulmark.”

Steve’s hand fell away. Tony shouldered past him, long strides carrying him towards the elevator ( _out of this conversation_ ).

“I’m sorry,”

Steve apologized,

“I just thought - you’re so close, I wasn’t sure - Tony, could you look at me?”

The acerbic words on Tony’s tongue die the second he actually takes in Steve’s haggard appearance. There were shadows under his eyes, his hair was unkempt, and he was folded in on himself exactly like he had been when they first connected.

Tony wanted to ask him if the only relationships that mattered came with a soulmark attached.

He wanted to ask if that was why Steve couldn’t understand him and Rhodey.

If that was why Steve had left without a word.

He didn’t, though. Instead he found himself ( _stupidly, like a dog following somebody home for scraps_ ) asking,

“Are you ok?”

With his hand still outstretched to call the elevator ( _JARVIS waiting on his command_ ). Steve sagged - actually sagged - and looked up at Tony from underneath his eyelashes.

He looked relieved ( _like he thought he’d lost Tony and was happy to have him back_ ).

“Buck won’t talk to me.”

Steve admits, and Tony feels like he’s been dunked in ice water. Of course - Barnes would only spend time with Steve if Tony was there. He was so stupid for thinking this was about him.

Steve edged closed, concern coloring his expression. He reached out, but Tony stepped back, calling the elevator.

“Tony...?”

“I can fix that for you, Cap.”

Tony cut him off, gesturing into the elevator,

“I’ll take you to your boyfriend. C’mon, America, we don’t have all day.”

“You don’t have to-“

Steve began, however Tony waved the words away ( _ignoring Steve’s stricken expression and the way his hands clenched at his sides_ ).

“It’s what I’m here for right?”

Tony said, smiling press-perfect as he stepped into the elevator,

“I fix things.”

Steve still looked doubtful, unsure, and annoyance made the edges of Tony’s grin twitch.

“C’mon, Cap. Let me make you happy.”

He pressed, extending a hand to Steve. Finally, Steve took it and JARVIS began to move them down to the Hulk room.

Steve didn’t let go for the entire ride.

_______

Tony stopped existing the moment Barnes smiled at Steve. He forced himself to sit pretty and watch as the two talked in hushed whispers, then forced himself to escort Steve back to his rooms.

When he was invited in for dinner, he said he had dinner plans with Natasha.

Walking onto her floor, he was greeted with a steaming plate of spaghetti and the ugliest turtleneck he’d ever seen.

Natasha was wearing a matching one ( _one eyebrow cocked, daring him to complain_ ).

As Tony got changed, he gently ran his fingers through the air between himself and the closest camera.

“Thanks for telling her.”

He whispered.

“Anything to fatten you up, Sir.”

JARVIS responded.

_______

Turtle-ghetti nights became a thing. Natasha seemed more relaxed with her mark concealed ( _perching herself in Tony’s lap as he painted her nails and carefully pushed her cuticles back_ ).

Supervised visits with Steve and Barnes became a thing, too. He got to sit and watch as Steve cried silently over Barnes’ missing soulmark. Got to watch Barnes kiss the blackness on Steve’s chest like it was made of glass. Got to watch Steve slide into the Hulk room just to touch Barnes - either holding his hand or shaving his scruff or cutting his hair-

_______

Natasha tried to convince Barnes to trust her enough to let her watch over visiting hours, but the man was nothing short of insistent. Every tactic she tried was stonewalled. Barnes wouldn’t be deterred.

It was Tony or nothing.

Turtle-ghetti nights turned into Mean Girls and horror movie nights. Those turned into sleepovers with bowls of the most ridiculous ice cream Natasha could find through her extensive contacts. Then those turned into a scowling Natasha sitting on the carpeted floor of her room with a ( _borderline illegal_ ) stick and poke kit in her delicate hands.

Each of Tony’s fingertips gained a tiny blossom, no larger than two grains of rice. Pink sweetbriar marked over decades of calluses. A flax flower was imprinted at the base of each finger, delicate smudges of color. Minuscule bells of lily of the valley curled around his thumbs.

Wolfsbane wandered up Natasha’s trigger finger. Her palms were stamped with a hand flower each with an Iron Man gauntlet keeping Tony’s hand perfectly steady.

Their hands swelled up something fierce and they grimaced the night away with them jammed in ice buckets. By the end of the third Sharknado movie, they were both shivering but smiling.

_______

“I’ll mark him up again.”

Natasha’s smug voice reached Tony’s ears just as the elevator came to a stop on the Hulk’s floor,

“And you can’t do anything to stop me from in there.”

She flounced past Tony on his way in, a wicked grin on her face that stood in sharp contrast with the icy anger on Barnes’.

“Is everything alright here?”

He asked ( _suddenly unsure of what to do with himself - he’d expected Steve to be down here, too_ ). The elevator dinged, leaving him and Barnes alone.

“Come in here.”

Barnes demanded with a scowl. Tony squinted at him, trying to figure out the joke. He came here to supervise BECAUSE Barnes was dangerous - there was no way he was going in there alone.

Apparently, his survival instincts inspired a riot of emotions in Barnes. His face rapidly transitioned between frustration and the pleased face of a teacher with a star pupil several times.

It was actually kind of annoying. Annoying enough that Tony shrugged and opened the door.

“Wha-“

Barnes’ eyes went wide and he shrank away from the entryway.

“What?”

Tony asked,

“I do what you want for once and suddenly you can’t handle it? Maybe you should stop bossing me around then, Jerk Frost.”

He spread his arms, then bowed.

“Anyway, here I am. What did you need, Your Highness?”

That did the trick. Steve’s Barnes melted away, leaving behind the man who seemed to think Tony owed him something. He glared at Tony before stalking over to him in a predatory manner.

He grabbed Tony’s hands and flipped them palms up, a truly epic scowl settling back onto his face. A blush was rising up Tony’s cheeks ( _a scary assassin was glaring at the tiny flowers on his hands. God, this would be a weirdly embarrassing way to die_ ).

“Tattoos are illegal. Why did you let her do that?”

Barnes growled. Tony scoffed, trying to pull his hands back. Barnes’ grip tightened.

“They were, in your time.”

Tony acknowledged,

“But today stick and poke is legal. Simple small things - nobody will mistake these for a soulmark.”

Before he could say anything else _(like how he thought Barnes should tattoo a smile on his serial killer face_ ), Tony was yanked into Barnes’ warm chest. His hands - metal and flesh - wound around Tony’s back to caress his spine.

The blush that had been dying out came back to Tony’s face with a vengeance. Barnes stroked him like he was stroking a-

Tony blocked the idea from his mind. He wasn’t going there. He was never going there.

Instead, he wriggled for his freedom. It was pointless, of course. Barnes’ embrace was a death trap.

He kept up the stroking, digging his knuckles into the dips of Tony’s spine, until Tony thought he would combust ( _from anger or embarrassment or arousal he wasn’t sure_ ). Just as Tony was gearing up to just kick the guy in the nuts already, Barnes whispered in his ear,

“I think I’m ready to come out of here now.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.

“Did you just use me as a...a murder hug experiment!?”

He demanded. Barnes simply grinned at him ( _which was closer to baring his teeth than smiling, but hey, Tony didn’t want to look a gift killer in the mouth_ ).

“Maybe I did. Nobody died, though.”

Barnes said. Tony released an outraged little screech, shoving out of Barnes’ grip at last.

“JARVIS!”

He called out, taking vicious pride in the way the door immediately opened for him and an electric barrier fell between himself and his harasser. Barnes, that fucker, looked startled yet pleased.

“I’ll let you out when you take an anti sexual harassment seminar.”

Tony hissed from the other side of the door.

_______

Apparently, Barnes' face was hilarious when HR got sent into the Hulk room. Bruce busted a gut over it - laughed so hard he nearly transformed ( _something he’d been stressing about since Barnes’ arrival_ ).

Tony had heard him and Steve howling from several floors up when Barnes failed his first harassment quiz.

_______

The day Barnes was released, Natasha’s favourite knives went missing and JARVIS set up a new alert. While Barnes might’ve gotten his way with Nat, he wasn’t going to get his way with Tony.

Even an expert assassin couldn’t contend with the combined avoidant determination of Tony Stark and his AI.

_______

Eventually, Barnes realized using Steve to get to Tony was the best approach. And because Steve genuinely missed him, Tony couldn’t even refuse ( _couldn’t stand to see all of Steve’s newfound happiness slide off his face_ ).

He found himself lured out of Natasha’s room time and time again with team movie nights, requests to explain the future, children’s hospital visits, or nights on the town. Steve’s arm would always find its way around his shoulders and, though Tony left quickly every time, the touch began to feel natural again.

Tony’s back itched constantly, right below the neck.

_______

A panic attack wiped Barnes out for a week. He shuddered away from everyone who tried to touch him, just barely tolerating Steve in his vicinity.

It made Tony realize that Steve’s Bucky was just as real as the man who had bossed Tony around countless times before.

The human part of Barnes wasn’t the mask he had thought it was.

_______

“Do you ever feel like you’re weighing him down?”

Barnes asked, melting out of the shadows surrounding the tower’s landing pad. Tony twitched and held back a startled shriek.

“Who?”

He asked once he’d gotten his heart rate to return to normal. Barnes didn’t answer him ( _because the answer was obvious, Tony had to admit_ ).

“Yes.”

Tony admitted. Barnes sat down heavily beside him. They didn’t talk for the rest of the night, but they didn’t move either.

When the sun finally rose, Barnes - Bucky - tentatively placed his metal hand against Tony’s back ( _right between the shoulder blades. That hand could sever Tony’s spine in two, just like his mark did_ ).

_______

“Do they ever stop touching you?”

Rhodey asked, both brows raised high in suspicion even as he scooped Tony off the floor, whirling him around in plain sight of everyone in the airport. Steve had to step back to avoid being hit by one of Tony’s flying limbs.

“Not really.”

Tony mumbled in Rhodey’s ear, trying his best not to redden ( _not to hope or believe or-_ ). He peeked over his best friend’s shoulder and got sight of the pinched expression on both Steve and Bucky’s faces. His heart rate doubled and Rhodey chuckled, setting him carefully back on his feet.

“I want to say this is a good thing.”

Rhodey whispered in his ear ( _smirking at Bucky’s sucking lemons expression over Tony’s shoulder_ ),

“But you call the shots here, Tony. What do you think?”

Tony swallowed and grabbed hold of Rhodey’s hand.

“I think...”

He responded,

“That they might care. About me...without the mark. I hope they do.”

His back itched. He could feel both of their gazes on it, a laser-point right over three vertebrae, and he was scared shitless. Tony had been scared shitless for a lifetime, though.

He wanted to try something new.

Tony wanted to believe in something. He wanted to believe this mark - this stain on his soul - could mean whatever he wanted it to mean. That it could mean nothing.

_______

Of course, that turned out to be a mistake. It always did. When you hear the call of the void...

You aren’t supposed to answer.

( _It’ll kill you_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nat's little flower tattoos have some meaning! 
> 
> Sweetbriar: Poetry, I wound to heal  
> Flax: Fate, I feel your kindness  
> Lily of the Valley: Return of happiness  
> Wolfsbane: Chivalry, Knight-Errantry  
> Hand Flower: Warning
> 
> So...the plot thickens. Tony really doesn't want to base a relationship off of his mark! I wonder why...


	3. Chapter 3

Something was off while Rhodey was visiting. The air felt thick and heavy, weighted with some kind of...expectation.

Steve and Bucky were always watching him.

It wasn’t...bad. Not necessarily. But Tony couldn’t help feeling like he was missing something.

The two of them were always smiling. Kissing each other softly on the cheek while their feet nudged against his. Bucky kept biting his lip, eyes downturned, as he held Tony’s hand.

Rhodey took it all in with the air of a disapproving father, but when neither Steve or Bucky were looking his lips would quirk up the slightest bit ( _mischief glowing in his eyes_ ).

Tony had told Steve countless times that Rhodey wasn’t his. Sure, when Rhodey was around it was hard for either of the super soldiers to interact with Tony physically ( _something they seemed much better at than using words_ ), but there was no reason to be jealous. They weren’t posturing at him.

But they were...acting? Acting **for** Rhodey.

It was weird. Tony had no idea what to make of it, especially when he was trying to swallow past his strangled emotions upon walking in on the two of them wrapped around each other on the couch ( _Bucky’s hands wandering underneath Steve’s shirt and up to his chest_ ). He was even more confused when they sprang apart to pull him down between them...then sat a polite distance away from him seconds before Rhodey came in.

It took him an entire week to crack. When he finally did, Rhodey laughed his ass off.

“They’re trying to win my approval before they make a move, Tones.”

He chortled, wiping tears from his eyes,

“I scare them shitless - I SHOULD scare them shitless.”

Tony simply stared, not quite comprehending.

“Have they...”

He paused,

“Have they NOT made a move already?”

The sound of Rhodey’s laughter could now definitely be heard a few floors away - somebody was probably going to come and investigate soon. Tony couldn’t help but laugh a bit himself, though ( _that ugly wheezing noise was one of his favourites_ ).

“Not even close, Tones.”

Rhodey finally managed to gasp out once he caught his breath,

“They’re probably gonna romance you all nice and proper. God, I wonder if they’ll be stupid enough to buy you roses. I’m gonna tell them to buy you roses.”

With that, Rhodey started chuckling to himself again ( _something about an Iron Man arrangement? Did florists even offer that?_ ). Tony let him work through it as he mulled over his own thoughts.

Did he want to be romanced? Was that all that this was? Why did he feel as if they were gearing up to something...bigger?

His back itched. He scratched it, knowing only Rhodey was there to see.

_______

They did buy him roses, but they didn’t ask him out. Tony stared at them in utter bewilderment ( _what did people... **do**...with cut flowers?_ ). They died within two days.

His back itched. Tony stood alone in his lab and scratched at it.

_______

After binge-watching some horror-scifi series that Tony had wanted to see for ages, he was happy and relaxed. His body had half-melted back into the couch. He was a Tony-puddle and life was good.

Bucky’s fingers wandered through his hair. He tried to trail them down Tony’s neck, but Steve’s arm was in the way. They were thoroughly entangled.

They murmured idle observations and small talk to one another for the next hour, just soaking in the company.

Then Steve and Bucky got up to go to their shared room. Wished him goodnight.

Left him sitting alone.

The mark on his back felt more like a hole than it ever had. It sat there, taunting him. What would they do if they knew-

  
_______

“How bout we get out of here?”

Bucky whispered in Steve’s ear, trailing his left hand palm-down over his chest and tweaking a nipple,

“I’d rather be on my knees than standing all night. Gotta worship what’s mine.”

Tony, frozen at the mouth of the hallway they’d hidden themselves away in at the start of the gala, felt his throat tighten (' ** _What’s mine'_** ). He turned on his heel and strode away before they could notice him.

He didn’t want to roped into another movie night knowing they were just going to go back to each other’s beds afterwards.

_______

Out on the dance floor, Tony’s back itched. He could feel Steve’s gaze on it as he snuck out with Bucky. Tony could see him hesitate in the doorway, start heading towards him-

Tony whirled his partner, swapped her out with somebody else, and then another and another until he was out of sight.

_______

By the time he got home, Tony’s back was hot and irritated. He’d been scratching at it through his suit jacket for the entire drive.

_______

  
In the morning it burned. He’d rubbed it raw.

_______

Bucky made him pancakes. They were delicious and he’d nearly knifed Nat for trying to take some. He nearly knifed her anyway when she hooked her chin over Tony’s shoulder, begging with her eyes until he hand fed her.

She tugged him away from the table afterwards, too. Secreted him off to her room as Bucky grumbled to himself about revenge.

“My mark...”

Natasha said, shutting the door behind Tony,

“I always knew what it was from. I knew it was from me strangling Yelana - I knew it marked my failure, just like the hand on her face - my hand - marked hers. They told me so.”

She looked like she was struggling with something ( _at least, as much as Natasha was able to look like anything_ ). Her hands clenched and unclenched, the flowers on the palms appearing as flashes of scarlet and purple ( _bruises and blood_ ).

“My mark hasn’t changed.”

She finally says. Takes a breath. Braces herself to proclaim,

“It hasn’t changed, but my fate has.”

Tony felt a sudden stinging in his eyes ( _he wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t_ ).

“That’s great.”

He choked out. Natasha shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look and he tried to smile, however wobbly he knew it would come out.

“I’m not saying this for me.”

Natasha said, swatting his head,

“I’m saying it for you! You can change your destiny, you twit.”

The sensation of cold water dropped down his spine, pooling heavy and awful in his stomach. He had always thought...

He had always thought she understood. He wondered now if they’d been speaking two different dialects of the same language.

“Nat...”

Tony hesitated, fear gripping his heart,

“I can’t do that. I can’t change what it means.”

Natasha’s jaw ticked. Tony felt like utter shit ( _he knew how much it took out of her to be that honest with him, to share this vulnerability, to tell him something hopeful)_. He reached out to her, but she brushed him off.

“You’re not like me, then? Is that it?”

She asked flatly. Tony wasn’t entirely sure where he’d lost his grip on this conversation ( _he wondered if he ever had one to begin with_ ).

“Why can’t you just believe in something good?”

Her voice wavered. It reminded Tony of the first time they’d exchanged that understanding look, back when he’d been dying from palladium poisoning and the lines hadn’t touched one part of him _(tucked safe and sound beneath his neck, a patch of perfectly clear skin, unmarked and unnatural_ ). He’d always felt...

He’d always felt he was disappointing her. He’d always felt Natasha wanted to believe in something better - that her destiny was more than an attempted murder and markings of her past.

Maybe he’d be like her if his mark were real.

“It’s not real, Nat.”

He tried, voice weak,

“It’s not real.”

She didn’t understand. No one ever did. They never would because Tony was a coward.

His back burned.

_______

“He doesn’t believe you love him.”

Natasha’s voice reached Tony through the speakers in his workshop, JARVIS forcing him to hear the conversations he kept pretending weren’t happening around the tower. Forcing him to face up to the wave he could feel rising in the distance.

Like a tsunami. There was nothing - the tide was low. There was nothing - nothing to fear.

But something was coming ( _a crushing terror waiting in the wings_ ).

“He doesn’t believe you’re meant to be.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, hands shaking as he placed down his tools.

“JARVIS...”

He begged. His AI wasn’t having it though. He almost viciously continued feeding the conversation through to Tony ( _recording? Live? He didn’t want to know_ ) at a louder volume.

JARVIS was angry. He’d grown up with this. He understood, even when he didn’t. He didn’t realize what soulmarks meant to other people. Didn’t realize what was ruined in Tony and Tony alone ( _always hated the other marked people who made Tony feel alone_ ).

“Of course we love ‘im.”

Bucky scoffed ( _don’t say it. Don’t say-_ ),

“He’s ours.”

‘Ours’

‘OURS’

Tony had known the truth from the moment Steve first sketched it in charcoal. He’d known since Barnes gripped his back in that bruisingly possessive way.

He’d known.

He knew.

_______

His back itched.

His fingertips came away bloody. He kept scratching.

_______

Tony Stark remembered getting his soulmark. He felt the pain like it was yesterday. He could still see the expression on his mother’s face - tears rolling down her cheeks without end.

No one else remembered what Tony remembered. Everyone who was there was dead.

_______

_“It came to me in my sleep, like a dream.”_

Didn’t they always?

Wasn’t that the POINT?

_______

Coward that he was, Tony left that night. Flew halfway across the country to land on Pepper’s California doorstep.

They had loved each other once. Not in a soulmate kind of way, but as markless people do.

They still loved each other. From a distance ( _pain etched its way onto Pepper’s face with a frequency Tony didn’t understand. She left him. He didn’t-)_. And from up close if he needed her.

She came to the door, a vision in silk and under eye circles, and let him in without a word.

_______

Pepper’s kitchen hadn’t changed a bit. A row of Iron Man mugs lined the center of the island counter. A bouquet of sunflowers ( _a present from him_ ) was dried and pressed into a glass frame. A bowl of ridiculous healthy fruit was the only other colour in the minimalistic design.

She didn’t get to cook much. Neither did he. The kitchen was a great place for difficult conversations, though. Gave them both things to fidget with.

He opened his mouth, a dozen defenses, deflections, explanations and truths ready to spill at any moment. He opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Pain flickered across Pepper’s face. Sadness...and then regret.

“Come on, Tony.”

She whispered, cupping his face,

“Let’s get some sleep.”

_______

In the morning Tony wasn’t any more ready to explain why he was there. He wasn’t even sure himself. But Pepper didn’t push ( _she’d wrangled him for so long that she probably knew it would spill out on its own. He wasn’t sure it would. It hadn’t when he’d wanted, so desperately, to keep her_ ).

Tony hadn’t trusted her then. Not like he should have.

He hadn’t trusted her and he’d lost her ( _he hadn’t trusted Bucky and Steve, he hadn’t trusted Nat-_ ).

“My mark...”

Tony blurted, stopped, froze-

Pepper’s eyes were wide. Her hands shook as she picked up her coffee cup.

“I’m happy for you.”

She said, her smile strained and her cheeks flushed,

“I always suspected-“

It was time for Tony’s own eyes to widen ( _with horror_ ).

“Pep, no - no, it’s not like-“

“With the way that Steve always looked at you-“

“No. Pepper it’s not - it’s not Steve.”

Both of them spoke over each other before looking awkwardly away. Tony was...beginning to understand a bit better why Pepper left.

“I loved you, Pep.”

Tony admitted in a rush. He needed her to know that - to understand that ( _to understand what nobody seemed to-_ ). He set her coffee cup down and took her hands, pushing with,

“I loved you and I wouldn’t have left you.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes ( _he was certain she would hide her face if he freed her hands. She always used to_ ).

“I know that, Tony.”

She said,

“But I always thought I was keeping you from something. You were always...”

She chuckled wetly,

“Always moving so fast, flying so far, and I was just...”

“The best CEO I’ve ever met? An incredible spitfire of a woman? Someone who made me quake in my boots even when my head was so far up my own ass I could see out my own mouth?”

He interrupted. Pepper laughed again, dropping her forehead to his chest. She shook her head,

“No.”

She said,

“I was always afraid you were going to die and leave me behind.”

They were both silent for a beat. Tony sighed heavily against Pepper’s hair.

“I should’ve talked to you. We should’ve talked,”

He gestured expansively around the room ( _though she couldn’t see him do it with her face buried in his chest_ ),

“Before. Before breaking up. Before not seeing each other for so long. I’m sorry, Pep.”

Whatever wall had been between them after they broke up ( _and before, God, maybe it had been there all along_ ) seemed to collapse. Suddenly, Pepper’s long-nailed fingers were digging into his shirt, scratching over his bloodied mark. Suddenly, Pepper Potts, the strongest woman he had ever met, was simultaneously laughing and crying into his chest.

He understood the sentiment completely. This was so...so them. Always trying to outthink the other, always assuming they knew what was in the other person’s head, assuming that was their job-

Being completely ridiculously wrong.

It took awhile to calm down after that. By the time they completely shook off the giggles ( _and the sniffles. Tony was getting sick of crying, damn it_ ), they both had their feet dangling in the pool like schoolchildren. Tony turned his gaze skyward and wondered why he felt so light.

The words came to him easily this time.

“My mark doesn’t mean anything, Pep. That’s why I don’t let anybody see it. They’ll assume - they already have.”

One of Tony’s hands trails up his back as he spoke,

“I couldn’t stand the idea of someone I love looking at this and deciding our future based off of it. I should’ve realized what that looked like to you.”

Pepper hummed. He could hear the sound of her feet passing through the water, the wind rustling the leaves of the Japanese maple trees she favoured, the calm steady breaths she took. It was more peaceful than he’d anticipated.

“Can I see it?”

Pepper asked, easy and light. The way she used to ask him if she could pick up the bill or if she could sleep on the left side of the bed. Inconsequential.

“No.”

He answered her. She hummed agreeably and that was that.

_______

“There are super soldiers on my doorstep.”

Pepper woke Tony by saying. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, frowning before his brain caught up with the actual words ( _instead of the strained way they were said_ ).

Quickly, he pushed himself up and swore.

“Tony, I love you, but I’m going to have to ask you not to do... **this**...here.”

Pepper said, avoiding eye contact as she fisted the bedsheets. Tony’s heart lurched in his chest. It ached ( _hollow in all the places having Pepper back had spontaneously filled_ ).

“I don’t want to see you move on just yet.”

She whispered, laughing wryly,

“Can we agree on that, Tony?”

The pain in his chest abated a bit at that. Tony had moved on ( _even if he didn’t think they really loved him, Tony’s own feelings..._ ) - it still surprised him to think it. But he had had better closure than Pepper. He had thought she didn’t want him anymore, whereas Pepper had simply thought **he** eventually wouldn’t want **her**.

She deserved time. And he’d do anything for Pepper, even now.

“I’ll slip out back. Pretend you aren’t home.”

He said, winking at her mischievously.

“And if they insist on knocking?”

Pepper asked, eyes crinkling ( _happy to be a pest. She always was - schnadenfreude through and through_ ).

“Then you remind them you have preciously few days off and you aren’t above suing them so hard they have to give up their names in the court settlement. They’ll have to wander the states forever, nameless men, no money, no job, only able to rue the day-“

Tony’s speech was cut off by Pepper pressing her hands to his mouth ( _her own twitching desperately as she tried not to laugh_ ).

“Will that be all, Mr Stark?”

She asked. He kissed her palm, flashing her a grin when she snatched her hands back.

“That will be all, Miss Potts.”

_______

During the flight back to the tower, Tony tried to hold on tight to the feeling of peace he’d had at Pepper’s. He tried to ignore the rising tide of anxiety ( _they’d come to find him without warning. They hadn’t called. They’d simply come to pick him up, like they had the right-_ ).

JARVIS was silent. His only acknowledgement of Tony was an extra tight squeeze of the suit.

It felt like a hug.

_______

Tony settled in for the wait, knowing it wouldn’t be long at all. If they knew him well enough to assume he’d run to Pepper’s then they knew him well enough to know he’d come back here. Either that or they tracked the Iron Man suit. He didn’t care to find out which.

Sighing, he poured himself a tall green smoothie packed with wheatgrass and all the other goodies no one but Bruce appreciated. He was only half-finished by the time he heard Steve and Bucky arguing.

“I don’t wanna wait anymore, Stevie. ‘M sick of waitin’. He’s gonna think we don’t want him-“

“He ran off, Buck, right after Natasha talked to him. I don’t know if-“

“S’all he does, isn’t it? Runnin’ scared cause he thinks he can’t measure up. We gotta show him-“

“We need to TALK to him. I swear to God, don’t ya dare just go shovin’ yer tongue down his throat-“

“I wouldn’t do that. Christ, Stevie. He’s OURS. He’s special.”

Awkwardly, Tony stood from the couch and turned to face the door. It sounded like they hadn’t anticipated him waiting in here. That or they didn’t care if he heard...that.

The both of them appeared in the doorway, arm in arm, and jerked to a sudden stop when they caught sight of him.

“Tony!”

Bucky exclaimed, rushing away from Steve to pull Tony into his arms. His hands immediately sought out the space between Tony’s shoulder blades ( _sending a shock through his body. ‘ **Ours’** ‘He’s ours-‘_ ).

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands folded over Bucky’s, making Tony’s back uncomfortably warm. He struggled and, reluctantly, they freed him from their death grip.

Pasting on a press smile, Tony geared himself up to make his excuses.

“Hey guys, what’s with the hugs? I wasn’t gone for long.”

He asked, tilting his head curiously and jamming his hands in his pockets. Steve’s eyes flicked to them and then to Bucky ( _who was watching just as sharply. Tony was getting nervous_ ).

“You left without a word.”

Steve said, inching forward.

“We were worried. Wanted to talk to ya, doll.”

Bucky said. Tony resisted the urge to turn tail and run as he realized Bucky was flanking him - they had him cornered.

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to leave the tower without informing everyone.”

Tony responded, flippant, and curled his fingers into fists inside of his pockets. They were really going to do this now, weren’t they? Before he was ready. Before he could tell them-

“Not everyone, Shellhead.”

Steve said, drawing even closer,

“Just us. We want to know where you are.”

“We wanna be where ya are.”

Bucky added on, a ghost of smile on his handsome face ( _Tony’s heart was hammering in his chest_ ).

“Why’s that?”

He asked. He was aiming for casual, but the closer they got the further his tone pushed into ‘strangled’ territory ( _his old vocal coach would be so disappointed_ ).

“Ya know ‘xactly why.”

Bucky’s voice was dropping into the steely calm confidence of the Winter Soldier. Tony could barely here it over the buzzing in his ears, though.

( _ **Don’t say it**_ )

( _Say it’s because you love me_ )

( _Don’t say-_ )

“It’s cause you’re our soulmate.”

Cold crawled through Tony’s veins. His blood turned to ice that his frantic heart kept trying to pump, beating harshly behind the arc reactor. His back burned - the kind of burning you get seconds before frostbite ( _as the tissue dies_ ).

“I’m not.”

Fell from Tony’s numb lips. It felt like somebody else was talking for him, puppeteering his body as his mind stayed trapped in the past ( _ **‘our soulmate’**_ ).

Bucky and Steve looked hurt. Steve was working his way towards outright angry ( _shoulders and jaw wound tighter than a vice grip_ ).

“We’ve seen the mark, Tony. We both have. I don't know why you're lying.”

Steve said, stepping forward. Numbly, Tony watched him tug at the shirt Tony was wearing.

“Show us. Please - I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want us to be complete.”

Steve’s words might’ve been pretty to anybody else, but all Tony could think was ‘you are complete’. Complete with Bucky, complete by himself...

Complete without Tony.

“No.”

Tony whispered,

“There’s nothing to see. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Twin noises of hurt - hissing exhalations - met his ears. Bucky’s voice sounded watery even as he growled,

“What’s that ‘posed to mean? Ya too good fer soulmates then, Tony??. ’Ve seen it - I know it’s there.”

Tony’s back burned. It burned worse than it did when he got the damn thing that had caused all this trouble. It burned like the surface of the goddamn sun.

He was sick of it. Sick of people asking about it. Sick of people thinking they could see what he saw.

He ripped off his shirt. He ripped off his adhesive patch, flecks of blood splattering on his hands from the violence of it.

His mark sat bare on his back, black and hollow and MEANINGLESS.

“It’s not REAL!”

Tony yelled, uncaring of the blood or the tears or the way both the men he loved took a staggering step backwards,

“Howard engraved it into my goddamn skin when I was seven years old! It’s a tattoo - he put it on me to mark me as yours, so he’d still have...”

His back burned. His nails tore through the skin ( _this thing he’d had hoped for once. Had wanted to believe in. Had tried to make sense of without looking at the brutal truth-_ ).

“So he’d still have something of you, Steve. **It’s not real**.”

Tony said, fixing his blurring vision on his shirt ( _ripped and laying worthlessly on the ground_ ).

“It’s not real.”

He repeated,

“So I’m not yours and you’re not mine. I’m sorry I ever let you think otherwise.”

They didn’t stop him when he left. By the time he made it to the balcony, suit closing around him, they wouldn’t be able to even if they tried.

( _He wished that they’d tried_ )

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, for there is a short epilogue!


	4. Epilogue

A month in Japan with JARVIS fielding his calls gave Tony time to think. It also gave him the strength to do something he’d wanted to for years. Something he hadn’t done because he’d...

Held out hope.

That maybe he remembered wrong. That maybe the needles hadn’t been real, that maybe a real soulmark had bloomed underneath the false one, that maybe Howard had tattooed him but only in the middle of an already existing mark - maybe he’d drawn a dot in the center of that inky blackness.

Tony didn’t hope anymore. He didn’t despair, either. He knew what his ‘mark’ was - meaningless ( _emptier in sentiment than the flowers dotting his fingers, his first foray into **choice**_ **)**.

He got a tattoo around it. Solid black work like Howard’s was hard to cover, but he could incorporate it into a geometric pattern. Encircle it with gold. Make it part of several red lines that marked out the blueprint of sliding back plates and black servos.

Armour. With fewer holes than the chainmail Rhodey wore. Less historical, too.

This...fit him. His artist had been in awe of it, a grin splitting his face, and his own soulmark crossed out on his arm with a giant black X.

“Now this...”

He’d said jovially,

“This is a destiny I can see for Tony Stark. Something modern, recognizable, tangible - none of that unrecognizable symbolic bullshit. None of that ‘always meant to be’ fairytale trash about being born good.”

He positioned Tony so he could see himself in the mirror.

“This? This is real life - this is building your own fucking destiny.”

He told Tony.

Tony wasn’t so sure, but this was a step. A step he needed to take if he ever wanted to go home _(if he ever wanted to try again_ ).

_______

Rhodey landed beside him while he laid by the pool, back completely exposed to the sun for the first time since childhood.

“I like it.”

Rhodey told him,

“Even if you’re stealing my thunder with the whole armour motif.”

Tony snorted, rolling over just enough to shoot Rhodey a haughty look.

“Darling.”

He scoffed,

“As if I’d want to copy an antique.”

_______

“They miss you.”

Natasha’s voice was artificially light over the phone. She was trying not to pressure him, clearly. She had no idea what had happened, but was more than smart enough to realize it had to do with more than his self esteem.

“I know.”

He told her ( _glancing at the pile of emails and phone calls JARVIS had been keeping walled off from him_ ).

“They love you.”

She said, sighing. Tony chuckled self-consciously, muttering,

“I’m less sure about that.”

_______

The landing pad of the tower was scuffed and dirty. It looked used despite the time Tony had been gone ( _as if someone had been pacing it every day_ ). Unable to resist, Tony kicked one armoured foot across its surface to add his own scuffs.

There was somebody standing in the shadows. Almost completely invisible, however present without a doubt. He could feel them watching him.

Tony took off the armour anyway. He was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“Bucky.”

He called out. Silence was all that greeted him for a few moments before Bucky shuffled out into the light.

Tony had never seen Bucky look defeated before ( _cornered, yes. Frustrated with himself. Depressed. Terrified. But never defeated_ ). His shoulders were slumped, though, and he was cradling his left palm close to his chest.

His eyes though, when they met Tony’s, were still determined.

“Hi,”

Bucky said ( _that certainty from the Soldier absent from his voice, replaced by a wobble_ ),

“'M Bucky Barnes. I think we should start over - 'm the king of new beginnin's.”

He completed the whole thing with a little wave of his clearly damaged left hand ( _two fingers bent off in the wrong direction...there was a story there_ ).

Tony stared at him. Then, abruptly, he threw his head back and laughed.

Was this the introduction he’d never gotten ( _the Soldier pinning him to the hospital bed-_ )?

“Hi. I’m Tony Stark. I’m not your soulmate.”

He responded, a cheeky grin covering up the nerves balling in the pit of his stomach. Bucky took two steps forward to close the distance between them. He cupped Tony’s cheek until the grin eased away.

“I know,”

Bucky said,

“But ya look like somethin’ I’d be missin’ if it was gone, so maybe be my mate?”

“That was terrible.”

Tony murmured, feeling blood rush to his cheeks and cursing the way they heated under Bucky’s hand.

“So terrible ya don’t like me no more?”

Bucky asked ( _insecurity flickering through his winter blue eyes, tightening his fingers_ ). Bucky’s hand fell away from Tony’s cheek and he snatched it up, putting it right back where it was.

“You’re too charming to dislike, even though you aren’t supposed to touch strangers on the face, Bucky. Don’t you remember your seminar?”

Tony responded. The smile he got in return stole his breath away despite the anxiety he still felt ( _‘our soulmate’ ringing in his ears_ ).

_______

Steve was in the kitchen. He dropped everything he’d been cooking - literally - the moment Tony stepped into the room ( _Bucky two steps behind him)_.

“Hi.”

Tony waved,

“I’m Tony Stark.”

Steve’s forehead creased as he frowned in confusion. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to say,

“Hello? I’m...Steve Rogers?”

Steve stepped in pancakes when Tony shook his hand and didn’t even notice, too busy trying his best to look like he knew what was going on ( _too busy drinking in the sight of Tony back in the tower, Bucky hovering at his shoulder_ ).

Staring at the maple syrup footprints left on his tile floor, Tony tried to let the seed of hope inside of him grow. He hoped this time things could be different.

He wasn’t their soulmate.

But Tony hoped they could love him anyway.


End file.
